


The Last Straw

by melonsflesh



Series: Smoochtober 2018 [4]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonsflesh/pseuds/melonsflesh
Summary: Yata wasn't... jealous. Not exactly. He just had to grit his teeth and physically stop himself from jumping over the counter every time he saw that one customer ogling Saruhiko’s behind after taking his order.He was annoyed.





	The Last Straw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarumilovemail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarumilovemail/gifts).



> Mimi requested sarumi + prompt #19 (fake dating kiss) for Smoochtober on Twitter so here we are with yet another long drabble oops orz
> 
> Thanks so much to both [Mimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruhiko_bb/pseuds/saruhiko_bb) and [Cass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoTsundoku/pseuds/xoTsundoku) for beta-reading this! ♥

Yata waited until there were no customers around.

“‘Nice apron’? Seriously?” he asked, viciously rolling the lollipop in his mouth with his tongue.

“What do you want?” Saruhiko drawled from where he was leaned on his elbows over the counter, never once looking up from his phone as he scrolled through it boringly.

“He’s harassing you,” Yata pressed beside him.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue in irritation, almost exasperated, like what Yata was telling him was no news to him, so why—

“That guy,” he simply said.

“Yeah, that guy.” That guy being the customer with the leering looks, the one who would often come with a friend or two and elbow them every time Saruhiko turned around, and grin and whisper things Yata’s ears couldn’t pick up on, but boy, if they could.

Yeah. _That_ guy.

“Your point? I can handle this.”

_Point is: let me punch him for you._

“Handle this, my ass. That freak always comes at the same time.”

“People have jobs besides ours, Misaki.”

“Don’t be an asshole, that’s not what I mean. He’s always waiting for _you_ to take his fucking order. It’s been a week already. Isn’t that suspicious?”

Saruhiko snorted, but it was a derisive sound. “What, you’re jealous?”

“Wh—I-I’m not jealous, i-idiot!” Yata stammered, before looking around the shop in embarrassment, taken aback by how high his voice sounded. “I-it’s just gross, okay? I know it pissed you off, too. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“He hasn’t done anything, technically,” Saruhiko said with a long sigh, but he sounded extremely irritated, and Yata hated that he could almost hear the ‘ _yet_ ’ hanging from Saruhiko’s lips before he forced himself to shut his mouth.

Yata clicked his tongue. “Fuck that. If you don’t do something, I will.”

“’Something’...” Saruhiko finally looked up at him. “Think about it, idiot. If word went around that you did something stupid when Munakata isn’t here to save your ass, what will you do?”

“B-but—”

“Why are you so bothered, anyway?”

Yata’s mind went blank for a moment. _Why?_ Did he need a reason? He just felt... irritated. And for no reason.

The world had brought him and Saruhiko together as neighbors first, then as close colleagues of the same coffee shop. And in the years they had known each other, Yata had learnt Saruhiko was strong, sharp, and took shit from no one.

He didn’t exactly blame anyone for feeling... like _that_ , towards Saruhiko. Saruhiko was good-looking. His uniform was always clean. His face was... he had a real good face. Nice eyes. Long eyelashes to complement them. Long legs. His ass—

_Fuck. That’s not the point._ Saruhiko was extremely intelligent and smart, too. Yata bet that guy didn’t even see that. He couldn’t see Saruhiko’s discomfort either, or just flat-out didn’t care. But Yata could; not only was it written all over Saruhiko’s usual poopy face, but it showed in his body too, in the way his shoulders tensed up and how he stood a couple of more inches away from the guy’s table than he did with other patrons.

_‘You’re jealous?’_

Yata wasn’t... jealous. Not exactly. He just had to grit his teeth and physically stop himself from jumping over the counter every time he saw that one customer ogling Saruhiko’s behind after taking his order.

He was annoyed.

When he rolled his tongue, feeling for the strawberry candy in his mouth, he found it in shattered pieces stuck to his back teeth.

He pulled the stick out to chew them, and crossed his arms over his chest with a frown, feeling safe. “I’m not. I told you, it’s creepy!” _Damn it, Saruhiko._ “Doesn’t it bother _you_?” he asked, and Saruhiko, who had been staring at him with something close to interest, shot him the deadliest glare he’d seen him make that day.

_Shit. Shit. Shit—_

The bell at the entrance chimed merrily when a new customer stepped into the shop.

Saruhiko quickly looked away, blindly smashing the home button on his phone more times than necessary to make sure the app he’d been using shut down for good, and disappeared into the staff room, leaving Yata and another waiter to take care of the rest.

Yata stared motionless at the staff door, mind reeling with thoughts.

_Damn it._ He knew they had their hands tied, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything.

He had to do something.

Saruhiko might hate him for it, but he’ll thank him later.

He hoped so.

 

☕ 

 

The next evening, that creep was at his usual table, fiddling with his phone. He’d been sitting there for a good while; Fushimi wished they could just kick him out, but they still had twenty minutes before locking up.

Fushimi wasn’t stupid. He noticed. He was bothered by it. But he couldn’t just put a knife to a customer’s throat because they had taken the time to appreciate his uniform... this time.

Well, he could, but not right there, and he wasn’t going to seek him out from whatever hole he might have crawled out from when he left.

Munakata had entrusted him with the shop for the past two weeks. Considering his propensity to think of the people he hired as family, if this guy was still around by the time Munakata got back from his trip, Munakata himself would make sure to ingrain some respect into his grimy brain and to ensure a healthy environment for everyone, patrons and employees alike.

It sucked that Fushimi had to depend on him for something like this. But, well, Munakata was the boss for a reason. Sometimes, what would take ages to achieve, he could do with a simple snap of his fingers.

Until then, Fushimi couldn’t fuck it up. And that meant he couldn’t allow Misaki to screw up either, even if he wasn’t annoyed, by Misaki worrying and all. He counted on having to take care of it by himself, but the fact that Misaki, with his simple minded mentality, had noticed and even offered to do something about it was... unexpected.

That aside...

Every night, fifteen minutes from calling it a day, Misaki would go ahead and get them some fast food from the convenience store as Fushimi closed up the shop.

Ten minutes from locking up, Misaki was still there, backpack on his shoulder, looking jumpy and vigilant.

When the tightness gripping his body seemed to finally unwind, a long sigh leaving him, Fushimi glanced to the tables and saw the creep had just finished throwing his jacket on and walked out the shop.

“Hey. I’m locking up, now.” He looked back at Misaki when the bells on the door jingled, not wanting to delay him any further. “The konbini’s going to close up soon, too.”

“Nh?” Misaki blinked at him for a moment. “Oh... yeah. I’ll get going, then.”

Fushimi watched him leave with a jumble of thoughts that oscillated between understanding and disbelief.

Honestly, what was Misaki doing, playing guard dog?

_‘I-I’m not jealous, i-idiot!’_

That was a strong reaction.

_Right._ It meant nothing, and it meant exactly that. Misaki wasn’t jealous, he was just vocal about things that rubbed him the wrong way, that was all. There was no other implication besides the fact that creeps were creeps, and the kind of attention creeps gave was repugnant and not the kind of attention he or Misaki were used to.

Most anonymous confessions ended up scribbled in the paper napkins of the tables Fushimi served, but what did people see in him, anyway? Misaki was the charming one, with his natural charisma and friendliness. Misaki liked attention, even if he could barely look at female customers in the eye. It wasn’t like he craved it, but he liked being acknowledged for a deed well done. And when he let himself go, the mood in the shop was a pleasant one.

Even when he thought he’d screwed up, like when his face paled as he realized he’d been serving as he sucked on one of those lollipops he got on sale instead of spitting it out, Fushimi wasn’t sure Misaki realized girls still found him cute.

Cute, but not cute enough to scribble his name surrounded by hearts.

_Idiots._

If this wasn’t Fushimi’s problem though, if it was the other way around and someone was to show genuine interest in Misaki...

As Fushimi handled the padlock on the front door, he didn’t recognize the footsteps behind his back as Misaki’s.

“Hey there,” said a voice, which he did recognize and pointedly ignored. “Um, _hello?_ ”

Fushimi took a deep, inaudible breath. “We’re closing now. Come back tomorrow.”

There was a promising silence. Then, a laugh, and, _ugh_ , Fushimi felt sick from just hearing that oily sound.

“Now, now, I just wanted to ask you something.”

He turned, facing the creep’s crooked smile with a scowl. Having to serve someone like him was tedious enough; being forced to interact with him in any way that wasn’t professional was just hideous.

_‘If you don’t do something, I will.’_

_Guess I’ll never get to see that. Too bad, Misaki._

Knowing Misaki, his offer still stood firm; whatever reckless thing he had in mind, Fushimi had to stop it before it got him in trouble.

His pocket knife rested in the sleeve of his jacket, in case things got _difficult_. Misaki always thought Fushimi was a bit extreme for carrying it around, but he was literally a step away from the interior of the shop, and self-defense was a thing.

He just had to scare him away. He doubted that guy was going to ask for directions, anyway.

_Let’s get this over with._ “Listen—”

“Heeeeey!”

Fushimi froze. When both men turned toward the new voice, Misaki was approaching them in quick strides. From the corner of his eyes, Fushimi saw the other guy look as struck with curiosity as him.

When Misaki finally caught up to them, their eyes meeting, Fushimi had a split second to take in the scowl in Misaki’s face, and then everything happened too fast — Misaki leaning forward, cupping one side of Fushimi’s face with one hand and bringing them closer without meeting any resistance. Because, as if by reflex, Fushimi couldn’t find it in himself to move away or to ask what Misaki was doing, where he was touching, _why_. As if he were to be told a secret, he instinctively leaned in as Misaki placed a kiss on his other cheek.

The soft clicking sound as Misaki withdrew his lips from Fushimi’s skin lasted a mere instant, but it replayed stupidly over and over again in Fushimi’s ears. There was also a pleasant warmth where Misaki’s lips had touched him, that spread to the rest of his face and down his neck, a tingling running though his skin warming him up from the chill damp of the night.

If Misaki wasn’t holding him and unknowingly covering the pathetic, dumbfounded look on his face, it would have done little to inspire hostility toward the third presence that was still there; Fushimi hadn’t heard him leave.

But right now, that was the last thing on his mind.

Misaki had _kissed_ him.

A cheek kiss was what it was, but it was _lips_ , on _his skin_ , a little more to the left and he would have had caught them with his own, bite them and taste them and—

“I’ll be waiting in the car,” Misaki said in a raspy voice, too close to his ears, and Fushimi felt his blood pump a bit faster and his arms prickle with goose bumps, whether from the idea of Misaki’s lips on him or Misaki’s hot breath tickling his cheek, he wasn’t sure.

“... Misaki?” Fushimi sought the other’s eyes the best he could with Misaki’s hand still holding his face, but Misaki wasn’t sparing him even the quickest glance, but standing his ground, looking all... bigger.

Fushimi didn’t fully recognize him.

That bratty stance of his was gone, replaced by something more imposing and haughty, and there was a different glow in his glare, a dark spark marring his usually carefree, excitable eyes.

Dark and pointed. _Controlled_.

He looked murderous.

“What are you looking at?” Misaki snarled, voice deep and ominous like an earthquake rippling the ground.

“U-uh... eh...” And it cut the guy in front of them in pathetic, little bits. “I... I gotta...”

The heat radiating off Misaki’s body and permeating through his own drowned out most of the world surrounding them. Amidst the sound of his own breathing, Fushimi was vaguely aware of footsteps clumsily hurrying away from them, but only when Misaki let go of his cheek did he realize who they belonged to, and that both of them had been left alone.

As Fushimi turned his head and sought Misaki’s eyes, Misaki stuck his hands into his pockets and looked somewhere else, as if following the disappearing man into the darkness of an empty alley.

Fushimi licked his lips and found his voice. “Well?”

Misaki’s shoulders jumped before facing him with a small pout, guarded. “Nh?”

Fushimi squinted at him. “What was that?”

“U-uh... well...” Misaki’s eyes strayed off, and he started balancing himself on his heels as if it had just dawned on him what he just did. And, _really?_ , Fushimi hoped he was just warming himself up from the night breeze. “H-he won’t bother you now... maybe.”

“Maybe,” Fushimi half sputtered, half snorted, but was pleased by how collected he’d managed to sound. “Do you think he bought that?”

If there wasn’t a lamp post above their heads, he wouldn’t have caught the fleeting glimpse of discomfort flickering in Misaki’s face before he turned his head again and looked away.

He wasn’t imagining it, was he? That flush creeping over his cheeks, the pink in his ears, or the way his lip was twitching before he trapped it between his teeth.

Fushimi wanted to grab him by the face and make him look at him and _just_ —

“I dunno...” Misaki said quietly. “He looked convinced.”

_Just—_

“He looked pretty stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“I... can’t believe he thought someone like you could actually drive.”

“Yeah—” Misaki immediately snapped back at him, wide-eyed and a bit agitated. _Ah, there you are, Misaki._ “What?!”

Once the more familiar energy settled in between them, Fushimi shrugged. “I was going to ask Munakata to have him kicked out, anyway.”

Misaki blinked, his mouth opening in stupefied silence and shoulders going slack as he internalized the information. “Wait, what? We could have... done that?”

“Mm.” Fushimi averted Misaki’s eyes with a sigh. “But you had to get in the way, like always.” Without waiting for a reaction, he quickly looked back at him and added, “What if he comes back?”

“Huh?”

“I said, what if he keeps coming back.”

Misaki frowned. “I... I didn’t think of that.”

Typical Misaki. “Did you even think this through at all?”

“O-of course I did...” Misaki glanced down, focusing on some spot on the ground that the tip of his foot started grinding on. “I just assumed... I-I wouldn’t have done this if...”

Misaki went silent again, and Fushimi felt that same impulsive surge of adrenaline from before rushing through him, his patience cracking.

He stepped closer. “Misaki.”

“Agh! I’m sorry, okay, I didn’t want to—”

Misaki’s words died in his throat as he saw Fushimi towering over him, eyes widening slowly as Fushimi slipped a finger under his chin, tipping his head up before he could utter any more of his evasive bullshit.

“Didn’t want to _what_?” Fushimi asked.

Misaki’s lips parted and closed, but with no sound coming out of them. Fushimi felt his jaw tremble under his touch for a couple of long seconds. That raw, vulnerable look made him slightly uncomfortable, but when Misaki lifted his gaze and eventually closed his mouth for good, his lips pressing into a firm line, those floating eyes turned steely and unwavering.

Fushimi felt himself unable to look away, as if cornered, and distantly thought that _this_ , this was probably what that guy saw. Misaki’s eyes screamed danger and warned Fushimi to put some space between them, but fuck if he couldn’t just stare into them all night.

“Go out with me!” shouted Misaki, and Fushimi froze.

Then, he concluded there wasn’t any danger, but determination.

He also concluded he was into that.

He still couldn’t help the way his eyes widened as he stared agape into those eyes and that attractive face framing them, and blurted out with dry lips and a shaky voice, “ _Wha-hat_?”

Misaki sucked in a deep breath. “G-go out... with me... Saruhiko...” he spoke slowly, like he actually thought Fushimi hadn’t heard him the first time, and then, in a lower voice, “please.”

When he found nothing in Misaki’s adamant stance that told him he wasn’t _serious_ , Fushimi had to look away for a moment, breathing past the anxious thrum against his chest which both scared and excited him.

“If this was all it took,” he snorted when his lungs found a rhythm, and couldn’t keep himself from looking back up at Misaki with a smile; it was a small one, but stubbornly tugging at the corners of his mouth, and it made Misaki stare at him dumbly, eyes lighting up in curiosity and expectation. As the cogs in his brain fit into place, he returned Fushimi’s smile with a little grin and wrapped his fingers around Fushimi’s wrist.

There was no mistake.

“So... we’re... are we...?” Misaki asked tentatively between pink cheeks.

Fushimi couldn’t wait to see the rest of his face match them.

“Depends.” He hummed and tilted his head a little. “Do you always kiss like a kid?”

Misaki didn’t disappoint, and his cheeks flushed even darker, almost as intensely as his hair. His smile only grew wider. “No.”

“Prove it.”

As he hooked his fingers in Fushimi’s collar and tugged him down, Fushimi already knew—

“Fine.”

—strawberry tasted great in Misaki’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it ;;


End file.
